The Mage
by happyobrien23
Summary: She was beginning to enter the forest when she felt it. A wave of power so strong and pure, that it took her breath away and made the trees dance in excitement. Closing her eyes as contentment washed over, she savored it. It was as if everything was right in the world for a moment. Unfortunately, it only lasted a moment. She staggered as the feeling left her. "Arthur.."
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! So, I've watched King Arthur: Legend of the Sword waaaayyyy too many times, and loved it so much, that I decided to write my first fanfic about it. Keep in mind, it is my first, and only, so all errors are mine. King Arthur, Legend of the Sword, belongs to Guy Ritchie, so please don't sue me._

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 _He must be protected._

After the defeat of Lord Mordred, being a Mage became a death sentence. The King's brother, Vortigern, began a purge, hunting down and executing all Mages. All across the land, they were hunted down and slaughtered, regardless of what side they were on in the war. For a time, there was denial in the actions. The townspeople were told that the The Mages that were killed had aided Mordred in the war, and were being dealt with for conspiring with the enemy. And, for a time, the people truly believed that. Heads were averted as Mages were dragged out of their homes. The people's outrage would permeate the air, villagers concerned that their neighbor conspired against the crown without anyone knowing. Soon they began to doubt each other. If they could not recognize that the local healer was an enemy, who could they truly trust? Paranoia began to spread. Seeing this, Prince Vortigern began sending his men with a message to deliver to the people. A message of hope that soon, all those responsible for aiding Lord Mordred, would soon be dealt with. And so, the townspeople began exalting Prince Vortigern's name.

 _The sword is his. He will need your help taking it back._

That was, of course, before the first child was murdered. Whatever his plan was, something had made him speed it up. Therefore, Vortigern's guards were no longer interested in keeping up appearances. It became an all out genocide, and the remaining Mages began scrambling all across the land trying to survive. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no where in England truly safe. Left desperate, the remaining Mages turned to the Dark Lands for safe harbor.

As it turned out, safe was a relative word. Trading armed warriors for vicious beasts, not all survived the initial journey. Many of the animals inhabiting the Dark Lands, were impervious to the elements, leaving the Mages, defenseless. Stuck in a hostile land, where their primary magical abilities were useless, it became apparent that something had to be done. It became prudent to discover a way to survive, without utilizing the elements. As such, the younger Mages began learning bestial magic to help even the odds.

It was a grueling task, as many seemed to mentally refuse the sudden shift in magic, but slowly it began to make a difference. More than half of the group that had fled to the Dark Lands, had perished, but the remaining few, began to live, and even thrive. They had managed to secure a cave and the surrounding area, to form a viable place to live. All their hard work had seemed to amount to something after all. The young mages training was beginning to pay off. Notably one in particular. It was this young mage in particular, that Merlin, began truly focusing his efforts on. She showed such promise at such a young age, but she was going to have to work harder. He had to make sure she was ready. For her fate, was intertwined with anothers', and in order for them both to survive, he would have to show her everything he knew.

 _You must find him! If he is discovered before he is ready, his foe_ _will_ _destroy him. You must be the force that turns the tide in his favor. Therefore YOU must be ready. Try it again._

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 _I apologize if it seems too short, I wanted to see how this idea was received before I continued to post the rest. Anywho, thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

King Arthur: LoS belongs to Guy Ritchie. _Italics-_ symbolizes thoughts and/or flashbacks.

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To say that going from living in England to living in the Dark Lands was an adjustment for The Mage would be an understatement. Learning the magic necessary to survive there was not her problem. She seemed to have a knack for channeling her magic into the animals minds. Her problem was her memories.

It seemed that with time, and danger not imminent, the children adjusted to life in the Dark Lands wonderfully. If an outsider were to glimpse them, it would appear that they had lived among the animals, and the wild forestry, their whole lives. And to them, they had. As time passed, the younger children slowly began to lose their memory of life outside the Dark Lands, until all that they knew, was a constant struggle to survive.

Unfortunately for the Mage, she was a few years older than the other children. She was not lucky enough to have the memories slowly fade away, regardless of how hard she tried to repress them. Although she did not fully comprehend everything that had happened, she still remembered. Everything.

She used to live in a village that had an abundance of mages. The village was surrounded by tall grass, and had a lake that the children would play in on warm days. On the days that she could sneak away from her studies for a while, she would run to the lake and peer deep in to it, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Lady. After a while of gazing, she would slink back toward town, eager to try again tomorrow.

She also remembered the day that a courier eagle came soaring through the village, bringing news that had the elder mages distraught. A crowd had gathered around them, sensing their distress. When she began to approach the crowd, her mother had restrained her to her side attempting to keep her from hearing things she was too young to understand. She recalled hearing the words _war_ , _Mordred_ , and _King Uther,_ but before she could ask why everyone was so upset, her mother had begun to pull her in the direction of their home.

Soon after that day, a mage called Merlin came to the village to confer with the elders. All of the adults were either in awe of him or terrified of what him being there represented. He rode into the village on a white horse, and the entire village had gathered in the square to watch his approach. She remembers thinking it odd, that when he rode past her, his eyes seemed to match the horses. A few months later, her mother had grabbed her in the middle in the night, and with a few more members of their village, began to creep through the forest. Her mother had attempted to shield her eyes from the flames lighting up the night sky, but for one moment, all she could see was her village on fire.

For a while she tried to fit in with the other children. As long as she spoke about something regarding magic and the Dark Lands, everyone got along well. Unfortunately, she learned that the younger children had no mind for reminiscing about the past, and many of them were not interested in making plans for the future. She wanted to talk about how things used to be, the good memories she still had access to. She wanted to have a conversation about how they could go about getting out of the Dark Lands, and how to stop Prince Vortigern from hunting them. Sadly, the younger kids did not want to dwell on something that they could not remember, nor did they want to waste their time on things that they felt like they could not control. They had no time for her ideas and speeches on how they did not belong in the Dark Lands, and how the only way things were going to change was if someone stood up and actually made an effort to change things. So, they wrote her off as being off in the head and ignored her, and she kept her distance.

The elder mages of course, remembered what it was like before the Prince began his purges. They remembered the way the land used to be, and how the mages used to be treated before they were hunted. But the tragedy and horror that came with it, made the purges all that they could dwell on. To her, it seemed as if the elders had given up all hope of returning to England, and so had put all their effort into drilling them with how to survive in this hellscape. But she rejected that notion. She knew in her heart, that this nightmare could end. Someone just had to be brave enough to try.


	3. Chapter 3

_"You are his guardian, but you cannot guard him alone. There are still those loyal to King Uther, and therefore, those that can become allies. Vortigern will not allow them to remain under his rule. Find them."_

Making her way out of the village, the young mage shook her head to refocus as she walked past eerily silent markets. Glancing around her, she noticed that there was a Black Leg, a royal guard to King Vortigern, on every corner, ready to crush any who dare challenge or rebel against their king. The villagers were so terrified that their fear saturated the air and words never fully made it out of their throats. Those with wares to sale, gingerly held the items up to those passing by, and if interested, sales were conducted through hurried whispers.

 _'Their fear is the reason is the reason they walk with their heads bowed and their mouths closed. They accept all that comes to them, because they have no hope that it will ever change.'_ Shaking her head in anger at the open display of power by King Vortigern, she continued on her way. Although she had found some supplies to stabilize the campsite she was currently utilizing, she did not find the person she came to town searching for. Her charge. She had attempted to go to him in his dreams, so that they could talk freely, but something was not allowing her to get to him. _'Why are his dreams blocked to me? I cannot tell if he is able to do so on purpose, or if it is a sign that something has gone terribly wrong.'_ Although, considering that fact King Vortigern was still unable to use the sword, some comfort was given. Her charge may well be expertly hidden from her, but at least he was still alive.

Sighing in disappointment, she did not notice the two villagers on side of her until their voices began to raise in ire. Brows furrowing, the young mage stepped to her left put space between them as they passed each other, but kept her ears open.

"They took Billy yesterday Mum! We can't just sit here and do nothing!" The younger of the two hissed. Glancing at the two, the young mage noticed that it was a mother and her son. The young lad quickly glared at the Black Legs posted at the corners, lifting his lip up with disdain. His poor mother appeared to be quite frazzled by the conversation, as her pale face was beginning to pinken with frustration, and as her sons' voice began to raise at the end of his sentence, she gripped her sons arm like a vice. Fear entered the woman's eyes as she yanked the lad toward her. "You will do as I say or the black legs will have your hide up on the boats early," she growled. "Billy will be fine. Long as you don't get to starting trouble in his name! He'll fail the test, receive his brand for the castle, and they'll send him home. Just like the other men. When the leggers come around, we'll pay the protection fees and everything will be fine." The woman visibly began to pull herself together, as she took a deep breath. She placed her hands on her sons' shoulders. "You'll see," she stated, pulling him into a comforting hug. She stroked his hair for a moment and placed a kiss on top as she deemed the conversation over. As the young boy opened his mouth to continue his rant, his mother yanked the arm she held and led the boy to their destination. Unfortunately, as they turned down an alleyway, the last thing the young mage heard was the young boy's irritated call of his mother's name for being ignored.

 _'That doesn't sound good. Vortigern's performing tests on men at the castle?'_ The young mage's brow furrowed as she began to ponder the news. _'Whatever it is, if they fail they mark them and send them home to their families. What would happen to one who passes?'_ The sounds of the village was beginning to be replaced by the chattering of animals when she felt it. A wave of power so strong and pure, it took her breath away. The trees began to dance in excitement as the power rolled over her almost lazily. Closing her eyes as contentment flowed through her, she savored the moment. It was as if everything had been set right in the world. Unfortunately it only lasted a moment. She staggered, knees nearly giving, and almost dropping her supplies as the feeling abruptly left her. As the final caress of power left her, she gasped as she realized just what that power was. "Arthur." Borderline frantic, the young mage began to quicken her steps to her campsite. 'The sword has revealed itself, yes, but it is still being held...at the castle.' Her mind wandered back to the conversation she had just overheard.

 _'He'll fail and get his brand'_

 _'They'll send him home, just like all the other men'_

 _'I wonder what would happen to one who passes?'_

The young mage let a string of curses fly as she reached her campsite. She was too late. Vortigern had created a system to force his nephew to claim the sword surrounded by his army, and it had worked like a charm. Running her hands through her dark hair, she took a cleansing breath, and sat down at the campfire determinedly. Just because she could not penetrate Arthur's dreams, that did not mean that she could not reach inside someone else's. ' _Merlin said to find Arthur allies. Now was the time. Bedivere was King Uther's general. He was also the first of many to disappear after the coup. Let us see just how far he got._


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! Sorry for the wait, I had a lot of things going on at once. So, I made this chapter extra long, and I also switched chapters 2 and 3 around. If you feel like it, let me know how you think it flows now in a review. Thanks again for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. You guys are awesome!

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Sir Bedivere had become restless. He was convinced that someone was either trying to send him a message, or a warning. Only whatever it was that was trying to be sent, was not in the form of a missive, it was in the form of his dreams. He had started having it early in the week, and to this day, he had it every single night. The dream with the woman in the blue robe. She was tall and slim with a pale face, and brown almost black hair hidden by her blue hood, and every night she said the same thing. Until now. In the dreams, she was always insistent and utterly convinced that she had need of his help in some form, but whenever she was pressed for more information, the dream seemed to fade away. But last night, she had seemed so harrowed by something, that when he questioned her on what exactly she needed his help with, she finally told him. To say that it had not captured his attention would have been a lie.

 _Mist curled around the edges of his vision obscuring everything but the woman standing in front of him. As their eyes met, she her lips began to move, but the words meant to escape her mouth, echoed inside his mind instead. "We do not have much time. They have found him, and soon, they will kill him. I will not let that happen," she declared firmly. "I have need of your help." For a moment, the woman seemed almost distracted, tilting her head to the side, appearing to listen to something that only she could hear. She closed her eyes in concentration, but quickly opened them in again in frustration._

 _Meeting his eyes again, the woman took a step forward. "He is vulnerable, and surrounded by enemies. I need your help to save him," she implored. Sir Bedivere cleared his throat, readying himself to ask the question he felt he already knew the answer to. "Who exactly is this man that you are trying to save Mage?"_

 _Silence was his answer for a brief time. The young mage seemed to draw herself up, as if to prepare herself. Once she had composed herself, she gazed into his eyes, with an inner strength that declare to the world her determination. As the name whispered across his mind, the mist encroaching on the dream, thickened until it obscured his view of her completely, signifying the end of the dream. Unfortunately, the power of that one name, had changed his entire view. If what this mage had said was in fact true, everything was about to change. The rebels under his command, would no longer be fighting for the sake of rebelling against the false king. They would have a purpose, a drive. They would be fighting for the born king, for Camelot, and for all of England. "Arthur. The man that I am **going** to save, his name is Arthur." _

After he had awoken, the dream had still been in the forefront of his mind, and as he went about his day, continued to be the only thing that he could think about. The safe-haven that the rebels were currently utilizing, was surrounded by forestry that they used to conceal the entrance, and was well stocked with weapons that when bored or agitated, Sir Bedivere oversaw their sharpening and care. Knowing this, whenever the rebels saw him approaching the armory, they gave him a wide berth, and allowed him his space. So, it was unusual when Rubio, one of the newer recruits, had appeared at the door of the armory with an air of excitement surrounding him knocking on the door twice nervously. "There's someone here to see you," he stated not moving to step into the room. Sir Bedivere, glanced at him briefly, pausing his work on the knife between his hands. Turning back to the knife, Sir Bedivere murmured an affirmative for Rubio to continue. "I think you need to see her," Rubio stated with a surprising amount of seriousness in his voice. Curiosity peaked, Sir Bedivere halted his motions again, giving Rubio his undivided attention.

Seeing that he was being taken seriously, Rubio turned to look over his shoulder, and opened the door to the armory wider, giving the visitor ample room to enter the room. Shocked, Sir Bedivere took a step back, as the Mage from his dreams appeared in the doorway, and glided into the room. His eyes seemed to follow her, as she passed him, and settled in the corner of the armory by the window. Silence reigned as the Mage gazed out the window, attempting to organize her thoughts. Rubio and Sir Bedivere, were of one accord, as their eyes were glued to the mysterious Mage.

. Concentration broken by the fire crackling, the young Mage took a steadying breath as she turned to face Sir Bedivere. "Do you know who I am?" she questioned flatly. Sir Bedivere stared back at the young mage observing her. There seemed to be something bothering her. She physically appeared to be tired, as if something heavy was weighing on her. Her eyes were hard, and there were bags under them, as if she was not getting enough sleep. Her entire demeanor screamed frustration. "I know who you are Mage," he replied. "I've seen you in my dreams." The young mage seemed to throw her head in agitation, turning her gaze back out the window. "You've been sent by Merlin?' he inquired, attempting to catch her attention. "There has not been a Mage spotted in years. I had thought all the Mages were dead," he exclaimed slowly. At this, the young Mage cut her eyes back to him. "Then you know why I am here?" she asked ignoring his last statement. Her words were harsh and to the point, cutting past his attempts to make small talk. "The Born King. You say that he is still alive. So you will be his guide?" Sir Bedivere stated. "And you will help me."

"Tell me Mage," Sir Bedivere started, making his way around the worktable. "What exactly this rescue plan is, and then we will see, how much help we can be to each other." The young Mage glanced out the window one last time, before she squared her shoulders, and stalked her way to the middle of the room. "Arthur has been taken to the castle, where Vortigern will somehow force him to pull the sword out. As you know, afterwards, Vortigern will kill him," she explained glancing at Rubio still at the doorway before focusing on Sir Bedivere. "You of all people know of Vortigerns' vanity."

As she paused in her foretelling of the story, finally caught on. "You are saying that King Vortigern will attempt to kill him in public," at her nod, Sir Bedivere continued to lay out his thoughts. "But why would he do that? No one knows of his existence."

"You have seen King Uther use Excalibur, no? Tell me. Is it something that can be used without drawing attention?" she asked. She nodded as she saw understanding drew upon his face. "Excalibur's power can be destructive when not used properly. Arthur _has_ already pulled Excalibur from the stone. And as we both know, Vortigern's next step will be to kill him. I need your help in stopping that."

"What do you have in mind Mage?" Sir Bedivere asked finally understanding the weight of this rescue mission. "Vortigern will make a spectacle of cutting down Arthur, inviting everyone in the land to see it. Therefore it will be in an open area. When the time is right, someone needs to free Arthur from his bindings, and get him to the sword." From his post by the door, Rubio spoke up hesitantly. "I believe that you are forgetting about the legion of Black Legs at King Vortigern's 'command Mage," his voice faltered as the young Mage turned her dark gaze to him. "I will handle the soldiers. Once I do, Lord Vortigern will be ushered to safety. That will be your chance," she paused briefly to pull her blue hood down.

Her gaze burned into them as if she was scrutinizing their very soul. "We will only have this one chance. I know that I am asking a lot. You do not know Arthur. You do not know what kind of man he is, nor do you know what sort of King he will be. But you do know the sort of King that you have now. Remember what you have all lost at the hands of this man, and ponder what you can one again have."

Sir Bedivere crossed his hands over his chest as her impromptu speech drew to a close. As with the dreams she had sent his way, she had once again left him with a lot to think on. He drug his hands across his face, as all eyes turned to him, awaiting his response. "I believe that we should move to a proper table, and inform the others that we are apparently, embarking on a rescue mission." He walked to the center of the room, and gestured toward the door. "Rubio? If you would please go get Bill and the others as I escort our guest to the study? We seem to have much to discuss."

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I'm slowly going through this story and changing things. Reviews and advice are always welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

So sorry for the long wait. Thanks to all who reviewed, you helped me get back to the story! I made this one extra long for you. It's almost like a history lesson with a twist :)

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 _You wish to know of Excalibur? Very well, child. You have heard the tales of it I assume? Then let me tell you the truth. I crafted Excalibur from Mordred's staff, the same staff that he murdered the Mage King for._

 _No young one, he did_ _not give it to me. I had to steal it. Yes, it was very dangerous. Can I continue?_

 _Shortly after stealing the staff, I began to craft the sword, utilizing an abandoned blackmith shop I had com_ _e across in my travels. It was while I was sharpening the blade of the sword, that I realized that my successful theft of the old Kings staff could be repeated, and that all of my hard work in forgeing a weapon capable of defeating Mordred, would be in vain. While I could not completely stop the sword from being stolen, there was a way that I could halt it. I had heard of runes that could be enscribed onto the sword that would bind it to the earth, only, as far as I was told, once the sword entered the earth, there was no way for it to be removed. At a loss, I pleaded to the Lady of the Lake for help and guidance._

 _The Lady, sensing my plea, drug me down into the depths as I bathed. Cloth swirled lazily through the water, curving gently around her form. Her hair was as gold as the sun, and floated around her like a Halo. The cerulean gown she wore, matched the still waves around us making her pale face shine like alabaster. She was divine._ _Face to face with the Lady, it was hard at first for me to grasp what she was saying due to me being...in awe. She was every bit as beautiful as the stories said. And every bit as powerful._ _She instructed me to go to the lake, and drop the sword into it, swearing it's return the following day. Indeed, the next day as I washed my clothing, my hand, seeking a cloak flowing downstream, dipped below the water and instead of cloth, emerged grasping the hilt of a sword. Before the tip could touch the air, the Lady ushered me under the surface._

 _Once again finding myself under water, it took me a moment to realize that the Lady was again addressing me. When I began to pay attention, I realized that the Lady was trying to tell me about the work she had done on the sword. Through her magic, she had bound the sword to the current King of England,_ _Uther and the Pendragon also told me that she had improved upon the runes that I had only believed to be a mere idea. She had told me that once in stone, only a Pendragon, or the direct heir would be able to unsheathe the sword from the earth._ _T_ _he_ _stone_ _acts_ _as a_ _sheath, and it is the_ _ultimate safe for_ _the_ _sword to be placed in_ _,_ _ensuring_ _that_ _it_ _is_ _protected from theft._

 _Before she released me from our encounter, she told me one last thing. Something that she made me swore to never tell another._

 _For the first time in my life, I fear that I must break a vow I have made someone. You are the boy's guide, young one. You will need to know everything, for when you two meet, he will know nothing. Be patient. With time, he will began to understand. But for now, back to the story._

 _According to the Lady, there is a secret to the sword. One that was not told to the Pendragon's. It is true that the sword is tied to the Pendragon bloodline, but contrary to what they were lead to believe, the sword is in fact, just a sword. A tool. A powerful one, yes. But ultimately just a tool to draw out, and focus, the power contained within the bloodline of the Pendragon's. The sword will not work for any other line, as the power of the Pendragon bloodline is as old as it is unique._

 _But that my dear, is a tale for another time._

 _You wish to know of Vortigern? Curiosity may very well be your downfall young one. Very well. You've progressed faster than I thought you would. Consider this "story time" a reward._ _  
_

 _As a Pendragon, Lord_ _Vortigen has power within him. Not as much as his brother, King Uther_ _but enough for Excalibur to draw from._ _Fortunately The Lady had the forethought to ensure it was not used against the people it was meant to protect. A test, if you will. The sword, once in hand, will cast deep inside the one who holds it, searching to see if it that person is worthy._

 _To be considered worthy, one must be, in their heart, righteous. Someone who would be willing to stand up for the weak and needy, and protect the innocent. Someone who above all else, would be willing to sacrifice their life and everything that they stood for, for another. When Excalibur has deemed someone worthy, a connection is established. The sword pulls the magic forward from the Pendragon, shown by the blue fire lit in their eyes, and the blue glow emitted from the blade. At that moment, a Pendragon has accessed their power, and through Excalibur, can unleash it upon their foes._

 _Unfortunately for King Uther, he did not realize that the younger brother that he had grew up with, had allowed envy and greed to change him into someone... malicious. As children, Vortigern had always been jealous of his brother, but once Uther became King a sharp mind turned that jealousy into something much worse._

 _Before the purges, before the war even, Prince Vortigern, at the time, was sent to train during the summer with the mage Mordred as a diplomatic effort arranged by the Mage King and King Uther. King Uther agreed to this for many reasons. The main one was to show the public that the mages were not be be feared, and that peace was in fact possible. Each side demanded something in return. The crown demanded that all mages wear special "bracelets" made of gold to identify them as being mages. The mages demanded land in England to settle freely. According to Lord Bedivere, who was in charge of escorting the Prince too and from the meeting point-_ _ _  
__

 _No, child I do not know where they met at._

 _According to Lord Bedivere, Mordred was supposed to be showing Vortigern various magical tomes and spells that all mages used frequently, all of which were supposed to be harmless. Mordred was to convince the crown that the mages had no ulterior motive. We know now that was a terrible mistake._

 _As time passed, and_ _King Uther became more successful and brokered peace with other lands, the Prince began to request the scheduled meetings moved up and last longer. King Uther, beginning to hear whispers of mages rebelling the alliance with the crown, agreed hoping that once again the fateful meetings would bring peace._

 _It was not to be._

 _Recognizing his potential for power, Lord Mordred had begun tempting the Prince with various magic. He began showing him the flames he could control with a single finger, the tomes filled with archane studies detailing ways to summon a fae or create creatures a blind man would be afraid of. Any and all knowledge was given to the Prince, because Mordred recognized something in the princes eyes. Something that shined bright in his own eyes. Obsession. For the Prince, raw magic was a drug that he would soon become addicted to just like Mordred._

 _Sadly for the Prince, he could not use magic. Not without help at least. Knowing this Lord Mordred began leaving tomes out about "binding" magic, ways for two people to share power. For he knew that once he found them, the prince would not hesitate to do whatever necessary to perform magic. Mordred had plans, plans the young prince could help him with. In exchange for the binding, the prince would help him rule the mages._

 _Only once Vortigern found the tomes, instead of running to Lord Mordred like he believed he would, he began to read them, study them, and create his own plan. For the two of them, were more alike than any ever suspected._

 _After reading the tomes, Prince Vortigern approached Lord Mordred with a deal. In exchange for binding their power together, once his brother, King Uther was defeated, they would both rule England together. As it's rightful Kings._

 _Both getting what they wanted, they began to implement their plan slowly._ _ _The plan was to allow the mages' fury to buil_ _d like a crescendo, until the very force of it was enough to crumble the kingdom. Once it was at it's peak, and the Mage King was out of the way, with Mordred as the new ruler of the mages, nothing would stop them from claiming England as their own. Not even Uther.__

 _Mordred began stirring up tempers amounst those he was closest to, managing each time to spread his poisoned filled words farther. 'Our King has already allowed them to chain us like dogs! These pretty gold bracelets will make it easier for them to hunt us and put us down like them too.'_

 _Prince Vortigern on the other hand, worked to make sure that the crown remained ignorant of the fraying tempers. In meetings, he passed along well wishes from the mages, and failed to comment on rumors of discontent. After they had turned enough people to their cause, they turned their focus to the next step. The Mage King, and with him gone, the Mage Tower._

 _As you know child, the tower is a representation of our power. We put our power into it as we built it, and so whoever controls it, controls the magic contained in it. That is why we are so selective of who we choose to lead us._ _ _  
__

 _The Mage King's death was...the beginning of the war. One that Lord Mordred played a key part in._ _Walking into the Mage Tower, Lord Mordred dismissed those closest to the King, his advisors, telling them that he wished to speak with the King regarding the meetings he had arranged between himself and the Prince._

 _As the advisors descended the tower, the mage rebels rushed to ambush them, killing them and cutting off all access to the King. Once the Mage King was dead, Lord Mordred, now the self proclaimed "ruler" of the mages, did not lose momentum. Using the deceased King's staff, he climbed to the top of the Tower with the rest of his followers and called upon the dark forces to bring him an army. Once he had his army, he waged war with King Uther from the top of the tower._

 _No child, it was not that same day. Due to how much energy it took to raise the dark forces, Mordred had to recover. But just because he could not use his new found power, does not mean he could not use new found influence. The mages, now King-less, drew to Mordred like a moth to flame, eating up his words of rebellion. While some removed their bracelets and fled, others were afraid of disobeying their new king and began preparing for war._

 _With Mordred in control of the tower and his army preparing to march toward King Uther, both Mordred and Vortigern believed defeat impossible._

 _They had everything figured out. The only thing that they had not counted on was me. Once I had heard the news of the Mage King's death, I began to make my way back to England. And when I made it back..well you know what happened after that._

 _After passing through several wary guardsman, I was finally granted an audience with King Uther. I explained to King Uther, Prince Vortigern and the kings' general, Lord Bedivere, that I was there to assist them in defeating Mordred, and pulling it out of cloak, presented them Excalibur. Telling King Uther about the "power" of the sword, withholding his heritage of course, I began to feel a bit..anxious as I held the sword out to him. I did not know this King, nor did I know if he would pass the swords "test" but for the sake of everyone, I knew that he had to. I had to have faith that The Lady would not have went through the trouble of tying something to this man and his bloodline, if she were not certain of this man's character. So with trembling fingers, I held Excalibur out further, waiting for him to grasp the hilt of the sword._

 _Not knowing what to expect, I was disappointed when nothing happened as his hand lifted the sword from mine. My mind began to rush with memories, rethinking every rune I had carved, every spell I could have said over the fire, but didn't, was there any herbs I could have used, trying to figure out in what moment I made a mistake, where I had went wrong._

 _In my panic I almost missed the moment that King Uther grasped the hilt in both hands. The gasp he let out as a wave of pure power came across the room, making cups overflow onto tables and rattling the windows, was as if a drowning man had just come up for air. His eyes, grey in color, blazed with an azure fire from within echoed by the blue script running along Excalibur. The room had gone quiet. Prince Vortigern stared at the sword with a carnal craving in his eye. Before I departed, I left the King, and his company, with these parting words: "The sword will only work for Uther Pendragon, or his DIRECT heir."_

 _Fearing the swords power, or more accurately the destruction of Mordred, the Prince began to backpedal. He began insisting upon ways that the war could be won peacefully, even demanding that the King allow him to go speak to Lord Mordred. King Uther would not allow him, fearing that if his brother entered the den of the rebel mages, he would not return. Unable to warn Mordred about the sword, and unable to defeat Uther alone, Vortigern could only plead to his brother once more, as he was handed the crown and Lord Bedivere rallied his soldiers with a war cry, to spare Mordred's life._

 _He was unsuccessful._


	6. Chapter 6

_Remember, young one. Arthur does not yet know who he is. All he has ever known is looking after himself. Do not fault him that. Regardless of what is told to you, remember. Arthur is and always will be, a Pendragon. It is in his blood to protect. For now, it may only be those closest to him, but trust me when I say this. If you have faith in him, he will not let you down._

The mage was beginning to grow agitated. After meeting the other rebels in the study, Lord Bedivere had took over the job of story teller as the mage once again isolated herself to a dark corner in the room.

As he informed the others of The Born King's current situation, the mage had done what she did best. People watch. Being friend-less in the Dark Lands had made her a master at body language. It helped keep her safe when jealous peers tried to manipulate her into dangerous situations. Now though, it was helping her get a read on the rebels. The man that Bedivere referred to as "Bill" was sitting beside Rubio and had his arm bandaged for some reason. Average height and slender in size, the man might have been overlooked completely were not for his "snarky" personality.

Disbelief shined in his eyes as Bedivere had round to a stop. Bill flickered his gaze between the mage and Bedivere conflicted on who to direct his gaze to, before finally resting them on the rebel leader.

"You expect us to believe this? Truly?" he said drily. "A stranger walks up to our front door with a wild tale and a plan surely to get us all killed and...you believe her? Are you feeling all right over there Bedivere?"

As he turned his stare to the mage, he began to open his mouth to question her sanity as well, until he noticed the black look cross her face before it was carefully schooled into a blank mask.

Lord Bedivere, noticing the growing discontent in the room, had asked the young mage to step outside. Tensing up she made her way out of the room to settle in the hallway.

Patience was never a quality she had an abundance of, and she had already wasted so much time already. Fear was beginning to creep into her mind the longer the meeting went on. To pass the time, and to calm the doubts beginning to encroach upon the hope that had blossomed in her chest after Bedivere had first offered his aid, she had begun pacing. Her sturdy boots, hidden by her blue cloak, were steadily wearing a hole in the ground as she grew frustrated. Just when she had begun to entertain the idea that the rebels might not help her, _might not help Arthur_ , the door to the study opened. Conversation dropped to mere murmurs as the departing rebels took notice of the frazzled mage. More than a few eyed her with suspicion.

Lord Bedivere was the last to exit the room as he and Bill shook hands on the way out. Peering at him, the mage realized that he seemed to be preparing himself for something. He seemed to be - prolonging his farewells. As the rebels exited the room, he took care to watch them leave instead of turning to face her. When he finally did gradually turn to lock eyes with her, she knew that she was right. His eyes were barely holding contact with hers and he seemed to be unable to stand still or start a sentence as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

Bracing herself for the worst, she twined her fingers together in the long sleeves of her cloak. Lifting her chin and staring defiantly at Bedivere, the mage waited for him to say his piece. Regardless of the outcome, she would not allow Arthur to die. Even if she had to rescue him herself. As long as he was alive, there was still hope.

Lord Bedivere, finally finding his tongue, took a step forward and gestured to the end of the hall. "Let us take a walk mage." Wary and near her limit, she agreed with a stiff tilt of her head.

"Taking a walk" seemed to be code for "let's walk around aimlessly while I ask you a thousand random questions." He had already asked her how she managed to enter his dreams, inquired about the location of Merlin, and borderline demanded her whole life story. Ignoring him for the time being, the mage allowed him to entertain himself with his probing while she studied her surroundings, memorizing her way around. Growing bored of stone and passing strangers, she turned her attention to Bedivere himself.

After many years of being ostracized and picked on, the mage had begun depending on her instincts to know when she was being deceived. While she did not want to believe that she was wrong about him, she could not ignore the fact that there was something Bedivere was not telling her.

Lord Bedivere in his endless talking, had not realized that they had just passed the armory. Twice. The mage on the other hand, did. "I have had enough of this farce Lord Bedivere. What is it that you are struggling so to tell me?" she asked.

Lord Bedivere, startled out of his sentence, turned wide eyes on the mage. Met with brown eyes turned cold, his only response was to turn his head to see where their feet had lead them.  
"Ah. My apologies, mage. My feet seem to have a mind of their own today."

"I do not have the time for games Bedivere, as you well know," she ground out. "Will you help me save Arthur or not?"

Wincing at the sharp tone the mage wielded, Bedivere raised his hands to calm her. "There are those who are not as...believing as I am of your tale mage. Unfortunately, without proof they see no reason to go on a "suicide mission" as they call it."

Bedivere went on to say that after she left the room and the supposed condition of the Born King had registered to the rebels, chaos reigned for more than a few moments. Although excitement fueled the air, there was more than enough doubt to cool it. The rebel mages were somewhat divided on whether or not to believe the tale of a stranger. There were those who believed wholeheartedly that the Born King had returned. Those that believed the story to be a farce, and those who were so desperate for a change, that they grasped onto the story as a child would grasp onto a fairytale. Only a small number of the rebels were eager to rush towards a rescue though. The doubters, although willing to entertain the idea because of Lord Bedivere, were admant that they wait. They would not bum rush the King on the word of a stranger, mage or not.

Unable to come to a consensus, Lord Bedivere had decided to step in and offer a compromise. He would send two scouts to the city to make contact with their agent on the inside. If the story was true the rebel soldiers would offer their full support with the rescue mission. One would return first to verify the mages' story, and the other would return after gathering information on the person The Born King had become. If the story was not true, they would..cross that bridge later.

The mage was...upset at the news. Spinning on her heel she stalked away from Lord Bedivere, ignoring his calls from behind her. Needing to calm down, she made her way to the entrance of the cave and entered the forest around it. Nature was always a solace to her, a place to cool her fiery temper. At the moment though, she was currently pacing through the dense trees, close to her boiling point. She came to Lord Bedivere under the belief that he would help her. _That he would help Arthur!_ Now it seems, Arthur's head would roll while they await news of..what?!

She didn't even know! It seemed as if they knew of the Black Leggers rounding people up, so how much of a stretch would it be to assume that they would eventually get lucky?

"It is not that I distrust you, mage," Bedivere said, emerging slowly from the foliage. "You have a good plan, but without the trust of the men who will accompany you, it will ultimately fail." Bedivere said, emerging slowly from the foliage. "All they need is a few days, a week at most. Surely, your charge can last that long. If you are correct, it will take the crowd Vortigern that needs to feed his ego, at least that long to gather at the castle. There is time to set minds at ease."

"The time that your people are asking me to give, may well be, all the time it takes Vortigern to execute Arthur," the mage exclaimed. "Do you not understand? He has already held Excalibur! Vortigern has already seen Arthur hold the one thing that he covets the most. He will not last the week!" Bedivere took a step back as the mages anger ruffled the trees in the wind. "I will not sit around and let him get killed. This is too important, he is too important, for me to risk waiting for approval."

The mage closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. It would not do for her to lose her temper. Not when Arthur's life hung in the balance. "I will not wait a week, Lord Bedivere," she stated, opening her eyes with resolve shining bright. "Three days. You said your men could be back in a few days. I'll give you three. I can wait that long, for your men to return. No longer."

Lord Bedivere released a sigh of relief as a compromise was offered. "Very well mage. Let us-"

A bitter wind went through the trees suddenly, stopping Bedivere in his tracks. He glanced around him and finally focused on the mage quickly approaching him with a terrifying look upon her face. "But I hope for all of our sakes that we are not too late. I did not come this far just to fail. If I lose Arthur, because of you or your men...There are no words to describe the wrath I shall rain down on you."

The mage turned her back to Lord Bedivere and began disappearing deeper into the forest. "Talk to your men, Bedivere. I suggest you send the swiftest of them all," she said raising her hood over her head. "Get whatever proof your men need. My charge is in the lions den, and I do not intend to let him stay there for long."

Lord Bedivere, struck silent by the weight of her words could only stare at the fading blue hue of her cloak disappearing into dense green foliage. This woman, this mage, was not to be underestimated. Bedivere knew that the mage would stop at nothing to reach the castle. Why, he couldn't understand. The determination and her unwavering desire to save someone she's never met, was something he had never encountered before. He could tell that regardless of what the scouts reported back, the mage would go gallivanting off to the castle, and most likely, her death.

Unfortunately, Bedivere had a sense of honor. Well that and her threat was still fresh in his mind. Although the mage seemed capable of taking care of herself, if in three days the scouts had not returned, he would send a few soldiers with the mage. The last thing that anyone needed was to have another mage as an enemy.


	7. Chapter 7

After speaking to the mage, Bedivere had went off in search of his scouts, purposely giving the fastest of the two the assignment. He made sure to stress to them that time was not in their favor, and that as soon as they got confirmation of _of any kind_ they were to return to the castle immediately.

Unfortunately, he didn't realize how futile the effort was until the second day. Once again, he found himself in the armory, finding an inner calm in the sharping of the tools. It was as he was checking the sharpness of an arrow tip, that he realized the flaw in his plan. There was no way that the scouts could arrive back in time. Security would be increased around the castle, at least if what the mage was saying was true, and it would prolong the scouts mission. Instead of coming back early on the third day, they would not arrive until midday on the fourth.

It was at this point that Bedivere decided to send a few of the rebels with the mage anyway. He would speak to those from the meeting who seemed to be in favor of a rescue, and see if they were still willing to help out. Feeling the tip of the arrow Pierce his finger, he carefully sat it down, grabbing a small cloth from the table instead, and using it to dab at the small wound. He removed the cloth after a while to stare pensively at his finger, lost in his thoughts for a moment. "I wonder...when this is all over..will it all be worth it in the end," he murmured. Bedivere found his feet guiding him to the window of the armory, where the mage stood not to long ago. "If he does not turn out to be who she believes him to be, what will she do then?" he contemplated.

After a few minutes, he shook himself out of his stupor, before dropping the cloth back onto the table as he exited the room. He needed to locate Rubio, so he could began rounding up troops to accompany the mage in the morning. It appeared, the young mage would get what she wanted after all. Tomorrow, they would go rescue her so called Born King.

On the third day, he and the few rebels willing to take part in the mission met at the entrance of the base, waiting for the mage to arrive. Rubio, unsurprisingly, was one of the first to volunteer. After him the others, Percival and his two archers, Thomas and Damien, reluctantly agreed to go as well. As the sun began to climb over the trees, Bedivere eyed the rescue party from the corner of his eye. While Percival remained calm, Rubio was the complete opposite. Almost bouncing on his feet, his excitement was visible to everyone, and apparently was contagious, spreading to the archers. Bedivere rolled his eyes as everyone but Percival began smiling and shifting in place. Clearing his throat to get the groups attention, he held back a smirk as he heard Rubio's awe struck gasp when the mage began to emerge from the forest.

It seemed as if she had materialized out of thin air. The sunlight shone gently on her through the trees, highlighting the strands of red throughout her hair and fog rolled gently at her feet obscuring everything from the knees down. As she neared the group, she placed her hands within the confines of her blue robe. Piercing dark eyes scanned over the group, taking a lingering glance at each person in front of her, before stopping on Bedivere.

Silence reigned for a while before the mage closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, it seemed as if her eyes had become lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. "Have your men returned?" she asked glancing around her again. Bedivere felt himself shake his head but found himself at a lost for words. A sense of foreboding had begun to borrow it's way through Bedivere. The mage, confused, tilted her head to the side and felt her eyebrow raise. "Then why are we here?" she said, a glare began to work its way onto her face as Bedivere's silence began to annoy her.

Closing his eyes Bedivere began to contemplate the sense of foreboding within him. It was not that he believed that the mission would fail, although it seemed an impossible mission, he had the upmost faith in his soldiers. It was the fact that from this moment on...everything would change. If he sent his soldiers with the mage, regardless of if the man she was intent to save was who she believed him to be or not, Vortigern would retaliate. He would not stop until his Black Leggers had killed every last one of them.

Unfortunately, deep down he wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that Uther's son had some how survived the coup and the long hard years that had passed. He wanted to believe that Arthur and this mage, this young mage that had somehow survived the slaughter of her people, that they were the winds of change that Londinum desperately needed. That somehow these two would magically fix everything that been broken for years, and getting worse every day.

As he re-opened his eyes, he peered at the mage glaring at him. He saw her clench her teeth and tense her posture in frustration, and was surprised when she didn't lash out at him in anger for being ignored. He felt Rubio and the others grow restless as the silence continued. He felt a twinge of pride as he saw the mage control her anger, and frustration, using a deep breath as a moment to arrange her face back into the calm mask she seemed to prefer. Rubio cleared his throat when it became aware that neither of the two were going to speak. Bedivere continued to search the mages eyes, until he found what h was looking for. Resolve. The mage would not leave until she had a clear answer from him. Either he was offering aid or he was not.

Allowing a smile to Grace his face, he finally allowed the hope, the belief that this woman, this mage knew something he did not. This was not just someone desperately holding onto the thought that maybe this person would be the Born King, and when it was proven it was not would continue searching. She believed without a doubt, that this one man was Arthur Pendragon. The Born King. And she would do everything in her power, which as what appeared to be the last mage was...a lot, and more to save and protect him. Bedivere's smile grew as he felt himself come to a decision. "We are here, mage, because you said you needed a rescue party," He said moving to the side to allow her to see the group better. "These are the men who will accompany you to the castle," he finished gesturing toward them with his hand.

The mage followed his hands with her eyes, once again looking over the crew. "So you will help me then?" she asked for clarification. "Yes," Bedivere confirmed. "We will help you," he continued, "and perhaps then...you'll help us." He finished. The mage narrowed her eyes at the suggestion, but did not immediately object. "My concern is Arthur," she replied slowly approaching the group. "He is the remedy to our problem. Help me save him, and you will have begun to save yourselves," she told the group. Shaking his head at the answer, Bedivere none the less, began to turn to direct the small rescue party towards the hidden boats they would be taking to venture to the castle. "Perhaps after we've rescued your friend, you'll give us a more straight forward answer," he replied. "But for now, it'll do. Follow me then," Bedivere ordered as he continued forward. "Let's get this done."


End file.
